


i just want to kiss you a lot and when i say a lot i mean don't ever come near me i hate you

by killdoll



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killdoll/pseuds/killdoll
Summary: Drabbles, set in canon, on various subjects. Lelouch/Suzaku.





	1. on chewing gum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! first of all thank you for clicking on this fic. this fic basically functions as a holding place for all these little drabbles i've been writing so that i don't have to make a new archive listing on ao3 to post each one separately and drive everyone in the suzalulu tag insane. the title is shamelessly stolen from the artist [sterility](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/sterility/140167097407). usually rough drafts of these go up on [my tumblr](http://cutieunidentifiedremains.tumblr.com/tagged/mine.fic) first, then slightly cleaned up, revised versions will appear here a few days later.
> 
> i usually write drabbles in response to one-word prompts, which will usually be part of the title of each one. if you want to drop a one-word prompt in the comments section, feel free! I might write it up for you! 
> 
> enjoy!

Milly's ends up under desks, chairs, and tables in the student council room.

One fine afternoon, as the student council discusses finances, Lelouch lightly rests his chin on his knuckles and, with his other hand, taps out a fidgeting drum beat on the table. Not really paying attention to what he's doing, perhaps seeking a lower pitch than the one he’s getting, he absently moves his hand to the underside of the table and begins tapping it with his fingers from below.

And screams.

The whole council sits ramrod straight. There are multiple things startling about the scream; it is high pitched, it is loud, it is sudden, and it is followed a moment of silence later by Lelouch saying, in a very calm, if disgusted, tone of voice, “Someone’s been sticking gum under this table.”  
  
Suzaku doubles in half laughing. The meeting devolves from there into Lelouch lecturing Milly on the importance of hygiene about these kinds of things, especially public property, while Milly interjects every once in a while to repeat the same retort: “Who even feels up the undersides of tables, anyway?” But the whole time Suzaku— who is a little bit loopy from lack of sleep the night before— cannot seem to stop laughing, occasionally saying “Can your voice even go that high?”. Even as he argues with Milly, even as he drones on in the same horrible tone of voice, Lelouch can’t help thinking that he loves hearing Suzaku laugh. To play the role he needs to play, he needs to keep talking, but he would give anything to be able to shut up. Even as he turns out row after row of droning words with a sharp tongue, for some reason he thinks that he would gladly touch a million more pieces of disgusting gum if Suzaku would laugh like that each and every time.


	2. on chocolate muffins

In the middle of spring, Nunnally took up baking. Given her blindness, it was helpful to have someone to read the directions to her while she worked, and while usually Sayoko was the one to fulfill this task, Lelouch indulged her whenever there was a moment to spare. One day, a day so nice that Lelouch actually cracked the window open to let the stray breeze flow in, Suzaku dropped by, haggard from work and grateful for the happiness the kitchen provided him. Nunnally mixed flour, sugar, and baking soda in a metal bowl with a wooden spoon while Lelouch took a break by the tiled island, talking with Suzaku about nothing at all. The pink egg timer Nunnally had set on the counter beeped, and she startled and smiled, clapping her hands together under her nose. “Big brothers!” She said. “It’s time to put the muffins in!”


	3. on pegs

In the early summer when the Britannian children were sent to live with him as hostages, Suzaku somehow acquired a bike. At first, he was inseparable from it, leaping at every chance to take it out over the steep hills and rocky gullies that the mountain trails behind the shrine offered up to him.

As he became friends with Lelouch and Nunnally, he gradually began to use the bicycle less and less. It was difficult to ride on outings because even if he carried Nunnally on his back, Lelouch got left behind, and there was no way to get all three of them onto the bike at the same time. By the end of summer, the three were basically always together, and Suzaku’s bike lay dormant beneath a tangle of weeds and sunflowers, forgotten in some shadowy corner of the backyard.

One day in the middle of autumn, Lelouch and Suzaku decided to go fishing for trout upriver alone, but Nunnally didn’t feel like going. She said she would stay at the shrine and read some adventure novels in English Braille which Lelouch had recently, through Suzaku (through Tohdoh), had imported for her— _The Swiss Family Robinson, Don Quixote, Tarzan_. Lelouch balked and hemmed and hawed and fussed over leaving her all alone, but eventually Suzaku got him to go. Looking to minimize the time his friend would have to stay away from his sister, Suzaku got an idea and ran off, telling Lelouch to wait for him.

The bicycle was just where he’d left it, sleeping beneath a carpet of fallen leaves, as if waiting patiently all along for this exact use. He picked it up and wiped the dust from it with his pants and dragged it back to Lelouch, grinning.

“This is that bike you used to always ride.” Lelouch said. Suzaku nodded. The bike was green, Lelouch noted, like Suzaku’s eyes. “How are we supposed to both ride it? You can’t expect to carry me on your back?”

Suzaku shook his head, swinging one leg over the seat. “No. Stand on the pegs.” Lelouch looked down, and sure enough, two small pegs of metal or plastic jutted out from the center of the back wheel. Gingerly, he did as he was told, but it was difficult to balance, and he told Suzaku so.

“Then hold onto my shoulders.”

“What? No!” Said Lelouch, who had just seen a girl do that on television. “That’s something girls do.”

Suzaku sighed, rolled his shoulders, and said, with an air of whimsical exaggeration, “Then I guess you’re just going to fall.” And as his feet lifted and met the pedals, Lelouch knew to grab on.


	4. on ponytails

When Suzaku’s hair gets so long and scraggly-seeming that he starts keeping it in a ponytail Lelouch offers to cut it for him, saying he does it for Nunnally all the time. Suzaku agrees and as soon as he starts he hates it because it makes the feeling start up again and he can’t stand it, how he always has to dirty everything he has, Lelouch’s fingers through his hair sending tiny tidal waves across his skin.


	5. on wire mesh

There were three of them, and the biggest one had him backed up against the cyclone fence. Suzaku didn’t want to hit, and he wasn’t going to, but that spelled out trouble for him if things kept going the way they were. He dropped his books into the dust, spreading his empty arms in a gesture of surrender with a wary smile. His vandalized gym shirt hung low off his collarbones, still damp from his attempt to rinse it in the sink, the red letters faded and running but still legible. “Truce?”

The biggest bully had a swollen, pea-shaped scar under his lip, and it seemed to move grotesquely when he spoke. “’Truce? Truce?’” He parroted back at him, mocking his accent. The other two laughed and started moving in from either side. Instinctively, Suzaku tried to back away again, and was rewarded only with the rattling of metal wire to remind him his back was to the wall. A bead of sweat rolled from his temple down to the side of his neck. This did not look good.

“Pardon me, gentlemen?” Came a voice Suzaku recognized instantly. His head snapped up. Walking to them across the field with his hands in his pockets was Lelouch, a lean black mark struck hard over the gray horizon, smiling with a practiced ease. His body language friendly, conversational. It was like clockwork: the three boys fell back instantly.

“Haven’t you heard it’s no longer in vogue to harass the newest member of the student council?” He asked sweetly. Chastened, the boys traded embarrassed glances. Suzaku had a rough understanding of the general dynamic: most boys in Lelouch’s grade respected him, at least in a begrudging sort of way, because he was cool, was their vice president, and most of all because they knew he could take all of their girlfriends if he so wanted. “You’re bullying a politician, you know.”

“Aw, we didn’t mean anything by it— did we?” The ringleader asked, trying to gauge the reactions of the other boys. They both nodded. “We were just kidding around. Right, uh—” something inside Suzaku couldn’t help but be amused watching the foreigner grapple for his name. He didn’t let it show on his face.

“Suzaku.” Lelouch said. It both finished the sentence and got Suzaku’s attention; he always was able to find just the right word. “Gym is over. We should be getting on to third period. I believe we have it together?”

Suzaku’s heart thudded loud in his chest.


	6. on feathers

Near the end of that first spring Suzaku found a baby bird nestled in the fallen leaves under the student council windowsill, chirping for its mother with no nest in sight. A quick Google search on the school computer taught him to nest it in a shoebox, in a bundle of soft clothes, with airholes in the lid he poked with a pencil. He asked Lelouch what to do when he walked in the room, preoccupied, but Lelouch always knew what to do and had the wildlife center nearby called. They went to drop it off, and on the train back, Lelouch asked him to join him and Nunnally for dinner. Lelouch made chicken soaked in red wine. When Suzaku went to bed that night, a single downy feather fell from where it had gotten lodged, somehow, behind his ear. If Lelouch had been there to see it, he would have had the following thought, for which the world would never forgive him:

 _an angel_.  


	7. on replacements and cannibalism

Suzaku has to look Lelouch in the eyes the next day, has to let him slide into the seat next to his in class, like nothing’s different, like Suzaku isn’t wondering which would be worse to blurt out,  _I slept with your sister_  or  _I slept with your sister because she looks like you._ He hears himself confess the deed in sentences like those that, in another life, he would be reading on an English exam:  _With her soft white skin and smart violet eyes, it’s so easy to pretend._ Begin with a preposition. Parallel adjectives, matched two to a noun.  
  
The faint red mark Euphie left on his skin— she smiled impishly before she did it, like it was just a little mischievous thing, like being caught wouldn’t get him killed— deftly hidden by the pop of his collar— feels like the orange flare of an air traffic control officer on a Knightmare landing strip, like a policecar’s siren on a rainy night. He can’t see Lelouch’s habitual wistful wry smirk, the one he shoots Suzaku every so often, the irony latent in it, as innocent. Not today. He’s jumpy with guilt; Lelouch drops his pen and he jolts in his chair. Lelouch tilts his cheek toward him and asks him what he’s so nervous for, you look like you think I’m going to eat you alive, Suzaku.


	8. on bullets and musical chairs

It’s fine. Lelouch can shoot Suzaku, and it’ll be fine. This cave that smells like salt water will soon smell of gunpowder, and that will be followed by the coppery tang of shed blood. For Lelouch, from now on, salt will always smell of futile anger, of petty treachery. Take him to the seaside and for the rest of his short snap of a life, the ocean will smell to Lelouch like the feeling of being betrayed when he knows he is the true betrayer. Sea, and blood. Suzaku’s. On his nose. On his tongue. Moving past the flat stone of the palate, making its way down the catacomb of the throat.

Focus, Lelouch. You have to do it now. Right now, because if he doesn’t, Suzaku’s going to kill him, he’s aiming his own gun with those trembling fingers, and just nights ago wasn’t the warm crackle of his voice static on the phone, telling him his plans for murdering Zero in the sky?

When the bullet misses, Lelouch tells himself his hands were shaking. And when Suzaku drags him by the collar into custody, alive, he tells himself that he would have done the same thing had Zero been a stranger. That he never really meant to kill anyone, that he thought better of stooping to a terrorist’s level. The world can keep turning and turning on lies like this. And turning. And turning. Until the music stops.


	9. on vivisepulture

Suzaku’s Knightmare takes a shot in the engine from an enemy unit’s, and like a coward he spirals to shelter below an overhang of damp rock. Pressed into earth, he thinks he will be buried alive like this; his knees on the ground, hidden under a fox’s den of compacted ash, thrust haphazardly through the cockpit of his own Knightmare as others rain bullets on each other overhead. Through this gentle, womblike dark, everything that passes is quieted. The sounds of war above him, like lumps of flour strained through water, muted as child’s play. Suzaku knows he will not die. With each painful breath, his vision flashes red, and promises him this.


	10. on roadside shrines

Grave markers by the side of the road. Suzaku isn’t used to them. In old Japan, Shinto shrines, yes. But these strange wooden crosses cropping up from the ground, these, he is not used to. “We put these here when a traveler dies.” Lelouch told him once. “To remember them.” Lelouch was just traveling through the world. Suzaku stands, where the tree-line starts, and watches this one. Someone’s tied a ribbon around it. Purple. Gossamer. As a wing. Fluttering in the slight wind.


	11. on ashes

The classroom, with the overcast skies and the steady pour of the rain outside, with Lelouch inside resting his head on the desk, with Suzaku sitting in front of him, turned around in his chair, is eternal. The sea, too, is eternal, and it is the sea to which Lelouch’s ashes return. The cliff is cold and unforgiving today. If the prime minster sees Zero’s arm tighten around the empress’ shoulder, he does not say so.


	12. on height differences

Actually, yes, Suzaku was shorter now. About an inch shorter than Lelouch, to use the Britannian system.

Realizing this terrified him— not the fact that he was shorter than Lelouch, but the fact that _Lelouch_ might realize he was shorter than Lelouch.

It was unclear if Lelouch ever did. Even when he leaned down slightly to kiss him for the very first time, he seemed to be thinking of nothing other than Suzaku, as one in a trance, in a daze.


	13. the historian (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beginning of a mini-series!

Lelouch Lamperouge scribbles a note on the back of a sheet of loose leaf that spills out of his binder, folds it up, and holds it out under the dark cherrywood of his desk. He’s written the name of his intended recipient on the outside. That sardonic smirk of his lingers, and he cuts pretty eyes at the girl sitting next to him, wordlessly imploring. The girl, just for this class sitting next to him, breathes, inhales the faint scent of Lelouch, takes the note, and scrutinizes the handwritten scrawl— _Suzaku_. She wrinkles her nose at the receiver of this gift being the classroom pariah, upon him anyone agrees Lelouch has been lavishing an undeserved amount of attention lately, chatting with him almost as much as he does Rivalz, like he’s anyone on the student council, but passes it along like a good girl anyway. 

She turns back to Lelouch and he smiles at her in gratitude, and she smiles back, relishing in the fact that she’s done _the Lelouch Lamperouge_ a favor, however hopelessly small. At lunch, a crowd of her friends will flock around her like mourning doves to giggle and coo on the subject. Lelouch, she knows already, will go off to wherever it was he always went, alone with his friend. She rests her chin on her fingers. She thinks of the way she’s caught Lelouch looking at the eleven boy, and dares allow herself entertain the scandalous notion that if Lelouch is being tempted down the wrong path, perhaps she could be the one to get him back on track. A blue-eyed Britannian girl like herself, a perfect match, just like they were learning in Eugenics. A couple like them would produce such strong, beautiful children.

Nearly a century passes, and in a library with ceilings higher than what were once her own expectations, a historian, mousy in ash-gray stockings, hair pulled tight into a ponytail from which only two strands of honey-blonde escape, the raw clean skin and red pimples of her face exposed to the world in the absence of makeup daubs, peers over ovoid glasses into the yellowed manila file— the papers, thinned and rotted with age, slide against each other, like microorganisms in a petri dish— and inside this vault of memories she breathes the word aloud, as though it were made of gold: _Yes_.

 

 


	14. sinking lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like teeth.

Hit the surface with a crash. Then go deeper. Water pressure breaks windows at this depth. A junked mech at the bottom of the sea. Stand back. Let it rot a few years, then come back to it. Covered in rust. Seaweed and algae. A jabot of oysters fringing its chin. Barnacles lacing the port-side arm. A single starfish, pink as ham, beneath its left eye. Find it, as a diver. Fish swimming in and out of its holes. The skeleton of its pilot, his hands folded in his lap. Swim closer. Fish evade you. Peer into the frames of the windows. Shards of shattered glass, leaning against each other. Jagged and tall. Peeking out. Like teeth.


	15. on words for things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New thing! I wrote a series of drabbles in response to prompts at [my Tumblr](https://cutieunidentifiedremains.tumblr.com/). The meme went like this: someone sent the first sentence of a drabble, and I wrote the rest of it. I will be posting them as I revise them for Ao3.
> 
> By the way, I'm in my room, but the wind is really whistling outside my window right now. It's April, though. Aren't nature & the seasons so amazing? It's quite a frightening sound! 
> 
> Anyway, this one was sent in by an anonymous user.
> 
> * * *

Lelouch could definitively say he was very, very gay...

… which he hadn’t been able to say before, because he didn’t have the words.

The Holy Empire of Britannia kept an iron grip on its mainstream media, and anything that did not strictly promote the good-blood-good-breeding-good-genes-optimal-man-optimal-woman-mate-to-produce-healthy-offspring-for-our-beautiful-society interpretation of the world winked and fluttered out of existence fairly quickly.

But the Internet will always be a more wild than domesticated animal, and tonight, some offhanded, disjointed research had led Lelouch to a site where people who felt like him talked about what it was like to have those feelings.

He learned what they called themselves.

He went to bed that night as he always did: fully clothed, with C. C. hogging half of it, and both of them knowing that despite his status as a pubescent boy nothing aside from the occasional sad bit of cuddling would happen between them, and for the first time in his entire life of feeling like this, Lelouch finally had a word that meant why.

“What’s up?” C. C. asked as he crawled in, pulled the sheets up over his shoulders.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.”

“Are you kidding me? Your heart is _pounding_ ,” said C. C. He turned off the light. She pressed her palm flat against his back, felt him vibrate. “Jesus, Christ, it’s like you’ve got a scared little rabbit in there.”


	16. on scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And here?" Lelouch asks.
> 
> "Yeah," Suzaku says. And here. 

* * *

I love your scars

“They’re ugly,” Suzaku replies. “They remind me of bad times.” 

And Lelouch thinks that if they were both broken by what happened that summer, then he and Suzaku are the same. Lelouch just coped in ways that didn’t leave scars on his body, furiously almost, desperate to fill the void. Gambling to kill the time, numbing the pain with lies and needles and dark liquids and broken hearts. 

The only one of them who hadn’t turned to self-destructive behavior was Nunnally. How was she so strong? Was it because she couldn’t see? 

“What are you thinking about?” Suzaku asks him, when he’s quiet for a time. Lelouch shakes his head. 

“Nothing,” he says. He trails butterfly kisses up the scars that line Suzaku’s arms, leaves the faint press of his lips. 

“And here,” he says. He puts his hand on Suzaku’s abdomen, where he got shot for him, where he tried to die for Lelouch, and even through his green camo shirt, Suzaku knows. His jaw tenses and his eyes water. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And there.”


	17. on seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then he saw him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt was sent in by [ann marie](http://skeletoncloset.tumblr.com/).

* * *

and then, he saw him

He was standing at the top of the staircase, one hand on the railing, and the lighting that came from behind through the stained glass windows shot prisms of color onto his shoulders and neck, dappled down hazy and golden to the floor. When he moved it was through a mosaic, and it was only when he began to descend the steps that Suzaku realized how much white made up the outfit. 

White like what? A bride? A swan? 

“Well?” 

Suzaku enfolded him. What else could he do? Tears stung his eyes. He was always so capricious a boy. 


End file.
